Time Does Not Wait
by Swanchika
Summary: Translation of "Le temps n'attend pas", by Plume Sombre. Set at the beginning of FE6. "The Marquess of Ositia is dead !". Eliwood could not believe what he was hearing.


Disclaimer : This is the translation of "Le temps n'attend pas", written once again by Plume Sombre (the original being here : s/8415045/1/Le-temps-nattend-pas). I do not own _Fire Emblem _or its characters.

Eliwood and Hector are shown to be best friends in FE7. How would that translate in FE6 ? Beware of spoilers, or at least, unexpected twists for those who haven't played _Sword of Seals_.

* * *

_"Araphen has fallen ! Araphen has fallen !"_

This cry repeated itself incessantly in Eliwood's mind. He had sent Roy off to settle the problems in that town and to support Hector... Had he been wrong ? Should he have gone himself, despite the illness that had been taking hold of him for years ? To drive away Bern with a trembling hand ? No, that was impossible. He had made the _right_ choice.

Araphen. Has. Fallen.

Had the Lycian Alliance's Army arrived too late ? Had it been eliminated during Araphen's fall ? Had _Hector_ survived ? Reports never came quickly enough ! Sitting on his bed, Eliwood put his face between his hands and sighed loudly. He had to calm down, otherwise he would just be making things worse.

Calm. He had to stay calm and patient. The messenger couldn't know anything besides this ; he hadn't even _seen_ the castle being captured. A second man would come in two days with a more detailed report, and Eliwood would have his answers... There was still a glimmer of hope, wasn't there ? Nothing was lost, nothing was completely set, nothing was decided. He had to wait for that second message.

Wait. Never before had Eliwood hated so much staying in his room, utterly useless and powerless before everything around him. Wasn't this the truth ? He couldn't lift a sword without being exhausted by the moves that felt so easy in his youth. He hated himself, hated his weaknesses, hated...

_"King Zephiel has challenged Lord Hector ! Lord Hector has been defeated ! The Marquess of Ositia is dead !"_

It had been said. Verified, attested, confirmed. Hector had left this world. Slain by Zephiel's Exaccus, slain by the very man he had saved so many years before, along with Eliwood and Lyndis. Such madness... Had they known in advance, they would have let the Black Fang kill the kind prince Zephiel was at that time, and _this_ wouldn't have happened. Maybe, maybe not. King Desmond was no better, according to what Eliwood had heard about him, about his attempts to assassinate his own son before the child took his revenge. Anyway, the dices had been cast. Lycia had lost.

The day Hector's death had been announced, Eliwood had stayed in his room without seeing anybody. He dismissed every servant, every knight, every guard, even his most faithful companions – Lowen, Harken, Isadora, Rebecca. Roy was alive and brilliantly led the rebellion, but a void had opened in Eliwood's heart, and even knowing that his son was alive and well barely comforted him. This void would never fill, and would always remain in his heart, like the one created by his wife's death. He would never forget that day, however hard he tried. Maybe it was for the best ; the dead had to be remembered, and their memory cherished. If friends did not carry on that duty, who would ? Hector had died as the Marquess of Ositia. Even the messenger had said so : _Hector_ had been defeated, but the _marquess _had been killed. Everyone would remember him as the sovereign who had defended his country against the King of Bern until his last breath. Not as _Hector_. The hot-blooded, brutally honest man who was ready to give everything to his friends, his family, his people, always ready to appear strong, to give advice, to comfort, to crack a joke, to lift the spirits, to be simply _there_. Nobody knew _that_ man, everybody always saw him as intimidating, imposing, respected and dreaded, but not otherwise – this was not false, but it was not his true character. They did not know how impulsive he was. They did not know how rough his manners could be outside of official events. They did not know his bright and bold spirit. They knew nothing of him, besides the title he bore, while Eliwood would remember his friend forever.

His best friend, the _brother_ with whom he shared so much, emotions, adventures, secrets, hopes, promises... So many things that Eliwood could not list them all. However, despite this, memories were flooding him like a wave so powerful it washed away all his other thoughts, only focusing his spirit on Hector. Good times and bad times, grief, friendship, anguish, comfort, fear, benevolence, all of this was coming back all to quickly and suddenly. Too much emotion. Eliwood let this wave carry him away and cried, howled, shouted, bursting the bubble he had been keeping shut for too long. Sadness and rage, guilt and remorse, all of this was melting in those screams of despair.

One phrase still echoed in his mind.

_"And don't you go dying before me, either."_

A single sentence. A single sentence that was all too painful. Eliwood stifled his cries, distressed and afflicted by his own memories.

"If you hadn't gone to war, I would have died", he choked out. "I wouldn't have had enough time to keep supporting you, to see our children grow... who knows, to see them marry ? Now that you have left us, as the honourable man you have always been, I must live to see everything you couldn't..."

_"And don't you go dying before me, either. I'd never forgive you."_

His body still trembling, Eliwood tried to smile, and couldn't. Pain and bitterness twisted his features. He remembered Hector saying that melancholy did not suit him, only enthusiasm did. So he tried to smile again. And he still couldn't.

He had never answered his request. He had simply smiled...

"I respected your will", he whispered. "I've got nothing to forgive. However, I do have a reproach for you : you died before me, even though your days weren't numbered. I will not forgive you for this, Hector, my best friend, my brother. Farewell."

* * *

It was pure folly. He had flown too high and had burnt his wings. Fighting Zephiel face-to-face _was_ pure folly. No one could measure to this man, who wielded a sword made for his hands alone. Hector was not stupid, he knew that fighting was futile. However, he had wanted to go past his limits, even once. He had wanted to stop Zephiel, to stop this war, to stop the misery it sowed, to stop the sorrow that was spreading all over Elibe. He hadn't been strong enough. His axe had not been powerful enough to deal a mortal blow to his foe, whose sword had pierced him without pity, without remorse, without hesitation, without difficulty. He had failed in his duties. He did not hear the calls and the screams of his army. He only saw the world growing dark, and then darker, dark enough to drive him to madness.

His last thoughts were for Lilina, the daughter he would never see blossoming in the nobility ; for Roy, the boy who he trusted to raise the country back to glory and to take care of his family ; for Eliwood, his best friend, the man he would have trusted with his life, with everything.

_My life has been full, and for that, I thank you... forgive me. And take care..._

**Fin**


End file.
